


Are Some Things Just Fate?

by TrueBelleoftheBall



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Distractions, F/M, Lucy needs Wyatt, Romance, Wyatt takes care of Lucy, drinking game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-26 01:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13225524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueBelleoftheBall/pseuds/TrueBelleoftheBall
Summary: Two-shot. The Hindenburg completely turned Lucy's life upside down. Her sister is gone, her mother is healthy, and she is engaged to a man she doesn't know. When wedding planning gets to be too much for her, she runs to Wyatt for a distraction. The night with Wyatt turns out differently than she expected, but in a good way. Lucy knows now that it is inevitable, things are going to change between her and Wyatt. Are some things just fate?





	1. Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Currently, I am going through and posting my Timeless fics here, so here's the next one. This fic is also posted on fanfiction.net. The prompt/idea was given to me by Maegmel of fanfiction.net. As always, please leave comments and I'd love some kudos too. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Lucy’s fist raises and knocks firmly on the wood door in front of her. Bringing her hands down, she twists her hands nervously together. Her purse is slung over her shoulder and she is dressed in casual wear. She hears the buzzing of her phone for about the hundredth time. There’s no way she’s answering that call. She didn’t answer the call before it and she won’t answer the call after it. In fact, Lucy decides to stop the calls altogether. Reaching into her purse, she shuts her phone off before dropping it back into the bag. Looking up, the door is still closed and Lucy tries knocking again. Please, please, please answer, she begs internally. The sun is starting to go down and Lucy absolutely can not go home right now. Right as she is raising a fist to knock again, the door opens. Then he is standing there. Dark hair and scruff with his piercing blue eyes. Swallowing nervously, Lucy casts her eyes downward before looking up again. He stands there without saying a word while his eyes ask all the questions. It really wasn’t fair. His eyes are so hypnotic. “Um…” Lucy shifts her weight awkwardly, trying her hardest not to get pulled in by his eyes. “May I come in?” she finally asks. Wyatt’s only response to is step aside and hold the door open for her. He’s wearing jeans with a white undershirt and a plaid shirt open overtop of it. And of course he looks incredibly handsome in them. Because she totally needs that right now. Maybe going to Rufus would have been a better idea. 

After Lucy enters and Wyatt shuts the door behind her, he opens his mouth, “So are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“Um…” Lucy wrings her hands again; her brain being pulled a thousand different ways. “I…I” She stutters. 

“Hey,” Wyatt says gently. Then he’s directly in front of her and his hands are on her shoulders. “It’s okay, just talk to me.”

“Wedding,” she blurts. She can tell that is not at all what Wyatt was expecting her to say.

“What?” he asks, blinking. Lucy holds up her hand, the one with the sparkling diamond engagement ring on it. 

“Wedding planning,” Lucy expands. “With my mother. I—I mean I don’t even know the guy yet she wants me to plan my wedding to him? Of course, she doesn’t know that I don’t know him. He doesn’t know that I don’t know him either—“  
“Hey,” Wyatt interjects mid-ramble. “Breathe,” he instructs. Wyatt locks his eyes on hers and Lucy finds herself automatically nodding. In, out. In, out. In, out. 

“She had a catalogue of wedding dresses,” Lucy whispers quietly, not daring to look away from him. “Some of them were circled,” she swallows before continuing. “by my hand. She wanted me to narrow down the flower choice and give her a date range. Wyatt, I can’t do it anymore. Home doesn’t feel like home. Amy isn’t there. Mom’s healthy. I have a fian—fian—a Noah. None of it’s right. I couldn’t stay there when she pulled out the dress catalogue. I freaked out and just ran. And…. I—I didn’t really have anywhere to go, I’m sorry—“

“Lucy,” Wyatt cuts her off again. “Time travel has turned your life completely upside down, I’d be worried if you didn’t crack from it every once in a while,” The side of Wyatt’s mouth pulls up into that signature smirk of his. Lucy gives him a hesitant, fleeting smile back.

“I just… could you just distract me from my mess of life for a little while?” Lucy requests.

“Distract you?” Wyatt raises his eyebrows and mischief creeps into his eyes. Suddenly Lucy feels him pulling her along. Lucy’s mind continues to race but somehow her brain manages to process tidbits from Wyatt’s home. It’s strangely homey. She recalls all the times she’s looked into Wyatt’s eyes and saw the haunted look behind them, the loneliness, the despair. All at once his home has lost its warmth. He shared this place with Jessica, the person he loves more than anyone, the person he would do anything to get back. No amount of tastefully arranged furniture or matching color scheme could take away the emptiness that comes with losing someone you love dearly. Wyatt’s home probably doesn’t feel much like a home to him either. Not without Jessica. Her home isn’t home without Amy. Guess they have that in common. Lucy vaguely identifies the kitchen and other rooms as he pulls her through his house. Soon they come to a stop in what Lucy thinks is the living room. “Sit,” Wyatt commands as he leaves the room. Lucy walks slowly toward the green couch and sinks down into its cushions. She takes her purse off her arm and puts it on the floor near the arm of the couch. When Wyatt returns he has two tumblers and a bottle full of amber liquid. 

“Alcohol?” Lucy asks disbelievingly. “That’s your go-to for distraction?” 

“One thing I know for certain: this whiskey it will take your mind off your wedding and wedding planning,” Wyatt assures her. He places a tumbler in front of her and pours whiskey into it. Wyatt lowers himself onto the opposite end of the couch and turns inward toward her while pouring himself a drink. Assailed by memories, Lucy remembers being in the cabin with Bonnie and Clyde. Pretending to be a couple with Wyatt. Her lying across his lap on the couch, his hand touching her leg, the area pulsing with electricity from his touch. His lips… Lucy shakes her head slightly to dispel the memory. They were both playing a role. It didn’t mean anything. It would certainly do her no good to think of it now. “We are going to play a drinking game,” Wyatt announces. It takes a few seconds for Wyatt’s words to sink in.

“A drinking game?” Lucy asks incredulously. 

“We are going to ask each other questions and if the answer was far from what we expected, we take a drink. That way, you get a distraction and we get to know each other better and build trust for our missions,” Wyatt continues on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I think at this point the proper amount of trust has been established,” Lucy tells him with raised eyebrows.

“Fine,” Wyatt concedes. “Then just two friends from work getting to know each other better,” the look on Lucy’s face communicates that she is not at all convinced. “I guess I’ll go first then,” the soldier says. “What is your favorite ice cream flavor?” 

“My favorite ice cream flavor?” 

“Yes, your favorite ice cream flavor.” 

“This is getting to know me better?” Lucy asks.

“Lucy, getting to know someone isn’t just the big things like that their wife died or their mother is sick. It’s also about the small things. Like knowing someone’s favorite ice cream flavor. It’s the big and the little that combine in your head and become the person in front of you.”

“That was…quite deep, Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan.” Surprise colors her voice.

“Yeah well…” Wyatt picks up his tumbler and swirls the amber liquid inside. “Sometimes it takes deep to get you to respond to something, Ma’am,” Lucy’s own mouth pulls up into a small smile at the Ma’am.

“Fine. My favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate chip cookie dough.” After finishing her sentence, Wyatt doesn’t reach for his glass.

“Your turn.” is all he says.

“You expected me to be a chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream lover?” Lucy asks doubtfully.

“Something like that,” Wyatt smirks. “I was thinking more like mousse tracks girl but it’s still pretty close,” Wyatt smirks. 

“Okay. Um…” Lucy searches for something to ask Wyatt. Nothing too deep or personal, that’s not what that was. Wyatt didn’t exactly like to just open up and talk about his feelings anyway. His first question was ice cream flavor. That was definitely not deep. Just surface stuff. She decides to go along the same lines as him. “What is your favorite type of chocolate? Like mint chocolate, Carmel…”

“White chocolate.”

“White chocolate!” Lucy exclaims, scandalized. “You can’t even really call that chocolate.”

“Chocolate’s in the name.” Wyatt replies without missing a beat, that smirk back on his face. 

“White chocolate is not proper chocolate.” Lucy grumbles as she grabs her drink and throws some back. Placing it back on the coaster on the wooden table, Lucy looks back to the soldier. “Your turn.”

“My turn? You barely drank anything.”

“You just said if it was far from what we expected, we drank. You did not specify how much.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be taking tiny little sips during a drinking game.”

“That was not tiny,” Lucy defends.

“Come on, Lucy,” Wyatt prods. Rolling her eyes, Lucy lifts her drink and tilts her head back. The whiskey burns it way down her throat, leaving behind the illusion of warmth. Once she thinks he’ll be satisfied, she stops.

“Is that enough?” she asks pointedly. Glancing down at the tumbler, it looks as if she drank half of it already! Geez. Lucy knows she is not that great at holding her liquor. If she had to drink this much every time, the game would be over soon.

“Better. Maybe not half the glass though,” Wyatt smiles teasingly. Lucy glares at him and waits for his question. “Favorite spot to relax?” 

“This big oak tree behind my house.” Lucy answers immediately. Wyatt looks surprised as he picks up his glass and takes a long gulp. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Some tranquil park, or some museum, or a historical sight.”

“Just because I am a historian doesn’t mean that my life revolves completely around history,” Lucy informs. Wyatt just levels her with a look. With those blue, blue eyes. “Okay, well maybe now it does, but it didn’t used to. That tree in my backyard, Amy and I would go out there. We’d play there, lay in the shade. There was just something about that tree that we both loved, that made us feel safe.” The aching hole in her chest created from the loss of Amy throbs as she reminisces better times. The time when she was kid. No worries, no cares. No job, no time machine, no Flynn. God, her life had turned into a circus show. Realizing that her eyes are wet, Lucy blinks rapidly to try and dispel the tears. Wyatt doesn’t say a word, just waits patiently for her to collect her feelings. 

“Okay, so—” Lucy clears her throat. “Was being a soldier anything like you expected?”

“No. I don’t think you can ever really be prepared for being a soldier,” Wyatt looks down. “There was certainly nothing that could prepare me for Syria.”

“Oh, I’m—” Lucy starts, feeling bad for bringing up Syria, for bring up all the people he had to leave behind. 

“It’s fine,” Wyatt waves her off. He eyeballs her as she keeps her hands in her lap, not reaching for her whiskey. “Did you date in high school?”

“Did I… no,” Lucy shakes her head. Wyatt’s hand closes over his tumbler. “Really?” Lucy asks. “You thought I dated in high school?”

“I didn’t think your first experience with love would be with your not-really-fiancé.”

“Even if I did date in high school, that doesn’t mean I would fall in love,” Lucy argues. 

“So why not?” Wyatt asks, ignoring Lucy’s previous comment. 

“Nuh-uh-uh mister. That’s another question,” Wyatt rolls his eyes but his mouth is smiling. “Alright, do you enjoy reading?”

“I don’t mind a good book every now and then,” Wyatt replies. With raised eyebrows, Lucy drinks. After putting her glass down, Wyatt reaches across the table to the bottle and refills her tumbler.

“You just don’t meet all that many people who enjoy reading these days,” Lucy comments. 

“So why not?” Wyatt asks immediately. 

“Why didn’t I date in high school? Or in college? Simple. I wasn’t interested. I was focused on my work, on getting where I wanted to be. A guy just didn’t fit in.”

“Wait a minute, college? You didn’t date in college?” At Lucy’s nod of confirmation, Wyatt continues. “So you are telling him that the man you don’t remember would actually be your first time in love?” Wyatt asks incredulously. Lucy gives a jerky nod, feeling awkward and uncomfortable with the line of questioning and her lack of experience in love. “Wow,” Wyatt comments as he picks up his tumbler. “Marrying your first love.”  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Wyatt was having a hard time digesting that Lucy hadn’t dated before. Surely it couldn’t be because men weren’t interested. Lucy already said that it was because she was focused on her work. Wyatt was not blind. The first thing people see is the outside, and Lucy was a pretty, young woman. Then once you got to know her, she only got more beautiful. Why did Wyatt even care? No, no, he didn’t. It was just curiosity. Just curiosity. In reality, Lucy didn’t have any experience with love. Yet, she had a fiancé. How hard must that be for her? Knowing that in this alternate reality without a sister and with a healthy mother that she actually fell in love. Then coming back and not remembering a thing about it, but feeling very stab of her sister’s absence. All these thoughts were whizzing about Wyatt’s brain, only slightly buzzing from the whiskey. 

He had pondered this while staring down at his tumbler. He tears his eyes away to look back at the woman on the other end of the couch. Wyatt frowns. She looks uncomfortable. Her eyes dart nervously around the room while biting her lip and wringing her hands. God, he truly is an idiot. She came here for distraction and here he is asking questions about love and mentioning her fiancé. “How about we move on to the next question?” Wyatt suggests. Lucy finally faces him and gives him a hesitant nod of approval. Flushed? Wyatt examines Lucy closer and sees that she is slightly flushed. Wow, Lucy was a lightweight. Incredibly lightweight. Alcohol had become Wyatt friend after Jessica’s death. When off duty of course. He remembered that he only got completely slammed a few times before he told himself it had to stop. The numbness had been welcome, but the hangover, the not remembering the night before was not. He had to find a better way to handle his grief. Although, sometimes he drank just enough for the edge of numbness to settle in his bones. He did it more often than he should. While Wyatt could hold his liquor fairly well, he had not considered that Lucy couldn’t. But maybe this was a plus. Wyatt had certainly noticed the dark rings around her eyes and the weary expression that came over it more often than not. The more whiskey in her system, the sooner she’d crash. He’d have her stay in a guest bedroom. Time to move the game along. 

“Do you miss Texas?”

“No,” Wyatt swallows past the lump in his throat and looks down. As he gazes down into his lap, he hears the clink of glass from Lucy’s tumbler. He waits until she’s finished to explain. “Jessica’s parents live there. They blame me for her death, rightly so. All the memories from there… with her. There’s less of them here. Besides, I don’t exactly cherish seeing my-good-for-nothing old man. My Grandpa might be there, but, there’s too much other crap that I just don’t want to deal with every time I feel like visiting my home state,” he admits. Wyatt hears the brush of fabric as Lucy slides across the couch. She places her hand in his hand and curls it over his leg. Wyatt wonders if she would have felt comfortable doing that without the whiskey in her system. It was loosening her up and Wyatt couldn’t help but wish that Lucy was fully sober. He wanted to know that she would touch him this way, try to comfort him this way, without a drop of alcohol in her body.

“I understand,” her voice is barely a whisper. Wyatt feels her warm breath against his ear. He doesn’t say anything for several moments, just soaking up her presence. Somewhere along the way with their missions, maybe at the same time that she became a friend and not just a co-worker, Lucy became someone he could turn to. Just sitting next to her was comforting. “Do you have a question for me?” Lucy asks, breaking the quiet.

“Do you like going on the missions?” Wyatt blurts the first thing that pops into his mind. Without asking for permission, his mind wondered back to Bonnie and Clyde. To having Lucy draped across his lap. Once Wyatt thinks through what he asked, he realizes that his ‘game’ is getting far heavier than he intended. He just couldn’t seem to escape loss, to outrun or outdrink the darkness looming over his head, looking to infect everything he did. 

“No,” Lucy tells him. “I know what I’m fighting for now, but when I get in that machine… it still feels like I’m drowning. Every single person that dies that wasn’t supposed to, or every person that lives that was supposed to die, I think to myself, how many people are we erasing from history? How many Amys are we taking away from other people? I am terrified that one day Flynn is going to screw up history so bad that we can’t repair even a fraction of it. Then, what will be the world we come back to? I hate getting in that machine, but getting out is worse. Not knowing if I’ll come back to Amy, or this screwed up version of my life. Or maybe when I come back I’ll have no one. The only people I really have in my life is Amy and my Mom. Well, I guess it’s just my mom now. If I come back and they’re gone… what am I going to do?” Lucy’s voice starts to thicken and Wyatt looks up to see tears shining in her dark eyes. One tear escapes and Wyatt takes her face in between her hands. Her eyes lock with his as he lifts his finger to brush away her tear. 

“That won’t happen, Lucy. We’ll fix it. And… I don’t know how much of a comfort this is, but… I’m here for you. I’ll be here for you as long as I can be,” He promises. Sincerity. He means every single word. After Jessica died, it was he had gone with her. It was Lucy and Rufus who had helped him start living again. They didn’t even it, either. Wyatt knows the pain in her eyes, the fear. Anything he can do to take away even a fraction of that, he will. “And I know...” Wyatt begins, trying to dispel her tears “that it hasn’t been all bad. I mean, Bonnie and Clyde, right? What a ride we went on then,” his voice drops lower and lower until he’s not sure that Lucy can hear it sitting a foot away from him. Lucy gives her quirked smile at the mention of Bonnie and Clyde. 

“They weren’t good people. But they did love one another. No one could deny that. They should have died together,” Lucy remarks.

“Yeah,” Wyatt replies. The pain from Jessica’s death, he wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. 

“We did pretty good playing the part, didn’t we?” 

“Yeah,” Wyatt says again, more mirth in his voice this time. Lucy had an inability to hide what she was feeling. At least, most of the time. She did put up a surprisingly good front in Germany before he talked to her. But her nervousness with Bonnie and Clyde was obvious for all to see. Everything was written across her face like it was just meant to be known. He had to admit that he like it. He liked being able to look at her and know what she’s thinking, what she’s going through. 

“Do you regret it?” Lucy asks so quietly that Wyatt almost misses it. She doesn’t tell him what she means. Yet again, she doesn’t need to. Wyatt considers lying. It would make things easier, keep him from entangling himself deeper in the web that was Lucy. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to the girl with the inability to hide what she felt. He couldn’t lie to the naked vulnerability in her eyes or be able to face aftermath of his words if he lied. 

“No,” he doesn’t whisper it like they had been doing for a while. She needs to know he meant it. Lucy’s little intake of surprise is audible to his ears. Her eyes flicker down to his lips and Wyatt suddenly isn’t feeling like himself anymore. He wants it. He wants to kiss her more than anything. When he sporadically kissed her in front of Bonnie and Clyde, he hadn’t expected the spark that jumped to life the moment their lips touched. He craves the electricity and to know that he is capable of feeling it. Lucy fills him with hope and he wants it. He wants it and so does she. So why shouldn’t they both have what they want? Lucy’s face was still framed by his hands, but it had turned into more of a caress. He slowly starts lowering his lips to hers, the distance tiny. One millimeter away, a thought occurs to Wyatt. The car, drowning, situations she could control. “You’re in control, Lucy. If you want me to stop, tell me now. Push me away. But if you want me,” Wyatt breathes against her lips, “then you have me,” Lucy didn’t speak a word, she didn’t push him away. He presses his lips to hers. 

He feels it. The spark starts where his lips met hers and travels along his nerves endings to every part of his body. This warmth, this electricity, this hope, he still wants more. He starts moving his lips against hers. After a moment, she responds. Lucy’s a good kisser, insanely good for not having any dating experience. Wyatt feels the heat rising between them as the kiss turns more passionate. He moves his body so that he is part-way over her, pushing her gently into the couch cushions underneath him. One of his hands cradles her face and slides into her dark hair. His other hand pulls her leg up by his hip and he starts to stroke her thigh. Lucy’s tongue presses against the seam of Wyatt’s mouth and he happily obliges. His tongue tangles with her and Wyatt tastes it.  
The sharp tang of whiskey from her tongue is like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over his head. Lucy could not hold her liquor and was just about drunk. He was taking advantage of her.

Quickly, Wyatt rips his mouth away from Lucy’s and springs up from the couch. Lucy groans in protest when he stops kissing her and gazes at him questioningly with slightly glazed eyes. “Did I do something wrong?” she asks innocently as her words start to slur together. Dear God, Lucy should never be allowed to drink. 

“No,” Wyatt jumps to dispel that idea from her mind. She did everything right and he did everything wrong. Who was he, taking advantage of a drunk woman?

“It’s just getting late and I should be getting you to the guest room,” Wyatt hurries out of the room and fills a cup with water. Running back into the room, he shoves the water into Lucy’s hand. “Drink,” he commands.

“Why?” Lucy frowns at the cup while asking her all-time favorite question of why. Wyatt could never tell her what Flynn’s motives were but this was simple. 

“Because I said so,” Wyatt informs her, not sure what drunk Lucy would respond to.

“Okay, mister. Pushy, pushy,” she grumbles as she tilts the cup back and drinks all of it. After she’s finished, Wyatt snatches the cup from her grip and deposits it on the table with their whiskey. 

“Time to sleep,” Wyatt announces. “Up, up,” Lucy stands and immediately sways for balance. Gripping her elbow, Wyatt leads Lucy from between the table and the couch. As Wyatt leads her to the guest bedroom, Lucy starts stumbling more to the point where Wyatt tucks her slim body under his arm. “Come on,” he grunts. “A little farther, don’t give up on me now, Lucy,” he encourages. Sadly, his pleas fall on deaf ears as Lucy completely slips from his grip and bangs into a wall in the hallway. “Dammit,” Wyatt curses. Walking to the historian, he slides one arm under her knees and the other supports her back. Bending his knees and lifting, Wyatt heaves Lucy into his arms. Carrying Lucy the rest of the way, Wyatt dumps her onto the bed. He stands back and examines the situation. Those clothes do not look comfortable to sleep in but he knows that is a line he will not cross. Given Lucy’s inexperience with alcohol, Wyatt decides that he’ll check on her through the night to ensure she’s okay. When he goes to check on her, he’ll bring one of Jessica’s old robes in case she wakes and wants to change. Please, please, please do not let Agent Christopher call with a mission, Wyatt prays silently. Lucy had obviously gotten drunk on that little bit of whiskey, though it was quite strong, and he has no idea how her body will react. Would she have a hangover in the morning or will it all be out of her system? He’ll bring her an aspirin just in case. Reaching down, Wyatt adjusts Lucy to a more comfortable position and tucks her under the covers. Brown locks fall in Lucy’s face and Wyatt brushes them away. He wishes that Lucy looks as relaxed awake as she does asleep. Instead she has to worry about keeping history on track when a madman is running around trying to muck it up. She has to bear the burden of being the only one to remember her sister while lying to her mother and fiancé about a life she has no memory of. It’s all far too much weight for Lucy to carry on her shoulders. Yet, she does it and succeeds. She truly is a remarkable woman. But… the kiss. Will she remember when she wakes up? Will he have royally screwed up everything. What have I done?


	2. What are we when the sun comes up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun has come up and Lucy and Wyatt have to face the consequences of the night before. Is fate for them or against them? Does it exsist at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, yay! Please read and enjoy. I forgot to note this on my first chapter, but all mistakes are my own. I am betaless and would be very grateful for a beta. If anyone is interested, please contact me!

Warmth. That’s the first sensation that she’s aware of as her mind works to shake off the fogginess of sleep. It’s an all-encompassing warmth, like she’s wrapped safely in a cocoon hidden from the outside world. While the warmth feels nice, it makes her mind work more sluggishly as it is more than content to stay right where it is. As she slowly pushes off the last tendrils of sleep, a throbbing pain makes itself known in her skull. Lucy lets out a low groan. Just great. Is she getting sick? What about her classes? Realizing that she’s about to panic, Lucy inhales deeply, steadying herself. And that moment is when the smell hits her. She’s not at home, no way. The scent permeating the room belongs to a delta-force soldier with insanely blue eyes. She would know, she remembers that very first mission, both of them awkwardly trying to navigate the tiny space inside the Lifeboat to sit down in their respective seats. She caught a whiff of his scent that day, even if it was mixed in with the alcohol on his breath. She brings her hands to her head and gently massages her temples. At least she knows where she is now, Wyatt’s house. Slowly opening her eyes, she peers around the room. Dark curtains pulled tight over windows let in only a sliver of sunlight, making it harder for her to examine the room. Lucy concludes that she must be in a guest room. There are no belongings strewn in random places like a bedroom would have, the closet doors yawn open to display their empty hangers, and it just has that entire guest room feel.

Alright, now she knows where she is, the other question is why. Why exactly is she at Wyatt’s house? Why can’t she remember coming into this room or crawling into the bed? Why does her head hurt? The pain intensifies as last night rushes through her head: wedding, Noah, running, Wyatt, whiskey, kiss… wait what? Lucy’s mind comes to a screeching halt when her mind processes the word kiss. Did she kiss Wyatt? Did Wyatt kiss her? Or was this all her imagination, one brought on the alcohol she remembers consuming last night? Let’s go through what I know for sure, Lucy thinks. She knows she ran full speed into Wyatt’s arms and drowned herself in his blue eyes (and in whiskey). She knows that he learned her favorite ice cream flavor and that her biggest fear is that time travel will take everyone she loves away from her. On the other hand, she learned that he likes white chocolate (shudder) and doesn’t miss Texas. She remembers scooting closer to him, seemly under the pretense of comforting him when she was the one that needed the comfort that being close to him brought. And then… she remembers the kiss. Now, Lucy knows that there is no way that the kiss is a figment of her imagination. If it was, she wouldn’t remember so much. Not the taste of his lips, tinged with whiskey, or the soft scratch of the soft scruff on his face. Not his hand clutching her hair or his body gently pressing into hers. She wouldn’t remember that the press of his body on hers didn’t make her light up with desire like she always assumed it would, instead it made her feel the safest she has since… since their last mission. Since the last time she was in his presence. Unconsciously, Lucy’s hand flutters up to her lips and ghosts over them. 

But then…after the kiss. The feeling of Wyatt’s weight springing off of her, of his lips ripping away from hers. Foggy confusion filled her head at that point, Wyatt thrusting a glass of water into her hand, and then pulling her up from the couch. She thinks she remembers…Wyatt carrying her? God, what mess has she gotten herself into? The awkwardness of their kiss after Bonnie and Clyde was hard enough to deal with, but at least they were both able to say it was playing a part, acting a role. What are they going to say now? Maybe they could pass it off as them both being intoxicated. She wasn’t drunk, though. Slightly tipsy at best. And if she wasn’t drunk, there was no way Wyatt was. He had a better tolerance for alcohol than she did. Lucy kissed Wyatt because she wanted to. And by the way the kiss felt… he wanted to kiss her too. Oh, why was this all so complicated? Why did it have to be Wyatt on her team? Why did he have to have his adorable, yet infuriating, smirks, his piercing blue eyes and scruff? Why did she have to fall for him? Lucy is under no illusions that she has “only-friend” feelings for Wyatt. She honestly can’t tell if she loves him, but she knows that there is something beyond friendship for her. Yet again, here she is asking why Wyatt had to be Wyatt and why she had to fall for him, but if Flynn never stole a time machine, then this mess could have been avoided, too. Better yet, Mason could never have even built a time machine. No use trying to fix the past, right? Not as long as it’s in your timeline at least. Which, Lucy thinks, is just plain ridiculous. With a sigh, Lucy resigns herself to getting out of bed and going to face Wyatt. Staying here won’t make the problem go away. 

Tossing the blankets off of her, Lucy gets up and stretches. She winces as she feels the bite of her bra. Sleeping with her bra on all night had made it dig into her back and Lucy wanted nothing more than to unclasp the thing and throw it away so that she didn’t have to look at it for the rest of the day. However, facing Wyatt braless is not an option. With a sigh, Lucy combs her fingers through her messy curls and tries to picture how this conversation will go. Her fingers go still when she spots something light colored at the foot of the bed. Approaching it, Lucy sees that it is a white robe. Beside the robe is a pair of black leggings and a nondescript navy T-shirt. And why did Wyatt have to be so thoughtful, too? Lucy grumbles to herself in her mind. Even though Lucy already kissed him, wearing clothes that she knows belonged to his dead wife felt more imitate. Actually, it didn’t really seem intimate either. It just seemed wrong, like she was crossing a line somehow. 

The more Lucy stares at the clothes, the more her own feel uncomfortable and itchy on her body. Maybe just the shirt….Lucy picks up the shirt and realizes that this is not Jessica’s shirt. Well, maybe it was Jessica’s shirt after she stole it from Wyatt, but Wyatt was the original owner. No way Lucy could have an intelligent conversation with Wyatt while wearing his shirt. Shaking herself out of that line of thought, Lucy looks away from the shirt. She finishes combing her fingers through her hair and, squaring her shoulders, exits the room. 

The expedition to find Wyatt was not a long one. The hallway from the guest room to the kitchen, where he was, was short. Sitting down at the small, round oak table, Wyatt was reading a book. Lucy did not peg him for a reader…which she learned about last night. “I don’t mind a good book every now and then” Wyatt voice from last night flits to her brain. “Good morning,” Wyatt greets, closing his book. “Did you sleep well?” he asks as his intense eyes search her face.  
Clearing her throat, Lucy responds, “Yes, I did, thank you.”

“What do you remember about last night?” is the next question out of his mouth. This one throws her for a loop. If Wyatt doesn’t expect her to remember last night, to remember their kiss, then she can just fake it. She can say she doesn’t know and avoid any awkwardness that might linger between them.  
“Um…I remember coming here and freaking out to you. You were the perfect gentleman about it, of course, and then you suggested whiskey as a way to get my mind off of my...problems. We played a get-to-know-you drinking game but things get fuzzy after the first few silly questions. Don’t remember the end of the night, but I assume it consisted on me getting drunk and you helping me into the guest room to sleep.” Lucy tries to best to sound confident as the lie rolls off her tongue, but trips and stumbles over a few words. 

Wyatt sighs heavily and hangs his head. “You don’t not remember, Lucy—”

“Wha—”

“You remember everything.”

“Then why did you ask me?” Lucy demands.

“I wanted to see if you would lie to me.” Wyatt states, his eyes a sad, faded blue, looking like he’s disappointed in her. 

Suddenly, anger wells up in Lucy’s chest, pressing against her lungs and making her short of breath. “So it was just a test? To see if I was lying. Well, Wyatt Logan, you are the one who kissed me,” Lucy grinds the words out from between her teeth.

The words seem to spur Wyatt to his feet, his book snapping closed and thudding down to the table. “I gave you a choice, Lucy, I gave you an out.”

“I was drunk,” she exclaims.

“Oh, come on, Lucy! Enough! It was hard cider but you were not drunk. Tipsy? Yes. But you were in control of yourself. You kissed me back. You wanted me just as badly as I wanted you.” 

“I… wait what?” Lucy had been gearing up to shoot another response back at Wyatt. Until his words really sank in. “You—”

“Yes, Lucy, I wanted, want, you. I think that was made pretty clear from last night,” Wyatt admits, the spark from their impromptu yelling match flickering out of existence. Instead, he simply looked sad. Well, more than sad, really. He looked crushed, broken, like a man who barely knew what he was living for anymore. He looked like her poor, damaged Wyatt. “I… you…I don’t really know how to say what I want to say.” Wyatt admits, putting the majority of his weight on the table and hanging his head.

“Then just do what you told me at the Alamo,” Lucy walks slowly and cautiously around the table toward her soldier, almost like approaching an animal poised to run away. “Say what’s in here.” Her palm lands over Wyatt’s chest, her nails scratching gently against his shirt, the beating of his heart a steady beat under her hand. Wyatt peers up at her through his lashes, his eyes locking onto hers. 

“I honestly wasn’t sure what I was going to say beyond asking if you remembered what happened last night. I’m not… very good about sharing my feelings. But I knew we couldn’t let this hang between us, it could compromise our missions.” Wyatt confesses. Ice slides down Lucy’s spine. Compromise our missions. Was that what this was about? Had she read everything wrong? She stiffens and starts to withdraw her hand before Wyatt’s darts out and grabs it. His hand encompasses her, enfolding it completely so that it can no longer be seen. “Lucy, everyone is drawn to what makes them feel human, feel alive. When I kissed you in front of Bonnie and Clyde, it was to maintain an illusion. I didn’t expect to feel anything. But I did. Once I did, I didn’t know how to deal with it. And I still…. I don’t know what to do about Jessica, or what’s going to happen with her. Now that time-travel exists, it feels like everything is off the table,” Wyatt pauses to take a quick, grounding inhale. “But despite time-travel and all the uncertainty of the future and the past, I feel something for you. I’m drawn to you because you are what makes me feel alive. When I realized that, I thought that I had to stop whatever we were before it could progress further. After Jess died, after I found out it was my fault, I spiraled. I drank myself into oblivion and let the days pass as dark blurs because I felt that I didn’t deserve to live.”  
“Wyatt,” Lucy whispers softly, tears shining in her eyes.

“How could I deserve to live when I had taken something precious and bright and wholly good from this world? Then I met you and got to know you and you are all of things too. I spent so long living in mourning, grief, and pain that I don’t know if I can give you anything, much less what you deserve. Lucy, I am far more broken than you think and I don’t know if I can do this,” He admits, tears sliding down in cheeks. Lucy squeezes his hand and maneuvers them so that her fingers slide between his, truly holding his hand. With her free hand, she cups his face and gives it a gentle tug. Her lips brush against his softly, the taste of the salt from both their tears is sharp on her tongue. There is not any fever in the kiss, no urgency or sense of desperate want. Instead it is a reassuring kiss. A brief brush of lips to let the other know that they are still here, that they haven’t left. As their lips part, their foreheads rest against one another. For a few moments, neither says anything, letting the sound of them breathing together repair a little of what’s been broken inside both of them.  
“What was it you said to me?” Lucy breathes. “We make it up as we go?” 

“What was it that you said to me?” Wyatt asks, just as softly and Lucy can hear the small smile in his voice. “Maybe we don’t get to make it up as we go? Maybe some things are just fate?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”

“I don’t, but you do.”

“Maybe… after all, history is just choices, right? Maybe I’m ready to see things from a new perspective,” Lucy whispers.

“Maybe I am too,” Wyatt replies. “After all, if fate lead you to me, it can’t all be bad, can it?” 

“I don’t know. Somedays it feels like I don’t know anything anymore. Maybe some things are just fate, but maybe others are simply choices."

“Maybe,” Wyatt whispers. “No matter what, I like this choice,” and Lucy feels his lips press into her forehead and the barest hint of his stubble. Lucy had to agree with Wyatt, she like this choice too. She also knew that with everything around her constantly shifting, Wyatt had become her constant, he had become her home. She just needed enough to have enough faith that it would stay that way.


End file.
